Photos of my family at Santo Domingo Pueblo, featured in LIFE MAGAZINE, Issue, November 29, 1943.

The seasons slip past unannounced and in this age of climate change, weather patterns appear to be shuffled like a sloppy deck of cards. Without being the weatherman, I can venture this prediction: As humans we’re influenced and susceptible to which way the wind blows. And with climate shifts taking place around the planet, people are beginning to pay closer attention to what else is being stirred in our atmosphere? I predict we’re coming again to the time of “elders and oldsters,” and a renewed beginning for the telling of stories.

The really good stories are held by elders. On the other hand, oldsters have lots of stories they always seem to want to share. What’s the difference? Oldsters are adding up numbers of years. Elders are elders at any age. Oldsters appear to know who they are, whether they are fifty years or older. Their endless stories make them known to us. An elder isn’t predetermined by number of days. They come into their eldership at their own pace, and sometimes it makes for confusing the two. It does require paying close attention to how we learn to listen. And especially how we begin to tell the story we tell ourselves. Climate change doesn’t have to provoke crisis. Learning to listen gives us the opportunity to discern new ideas. Everyone has ideas. It’s in how they are shared that makes for their value. Coming into the last seasons of their lives, aged men and women will themselves to shuffle outside in the early hours. They are the sum total of all the stories they’ve heard and all they’ve experienced. They choose to release these into the hands of whoever it may be that will receive this blessing. “Those who listen and learn, carry life for all the People.”

In today’s space travel and exploration, people claim ownership by virtue of their domineering intellect. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” This bold statement is an example of an unclear thought because the People haven’t been included in the sharing of ideas. Now the results are polluting the once clear skies with dangerous junk and debris. Is this progress? I once saw a U.S. Government sign in front of a Navajo Indian Boarding School, which proclaimed: Tradition, is the enemy of progress. The Dine People were the very ones who could have been consulted because of their vast oral treasure of the night sky. Maybe they still have stories to share? Stories within tribal oral cultures come from a living word. Stories are life, when there is someone who listens. The living word is the beginning of relationship to each other and to all creation. This is why we tribal people hold our songs and stories dear to us. This is why we care for our elders. The stories and songs they hold, tell us who we are and what we believe. They provide direction for our faith. The stories and songs are simple because they teach so much. Our life as a people is simple because we know so much. Great reverence for our Creator has given us knowledge. Knowing is a great responsibility and requires developed patience to become wisdom.